


The Last

by taoroo



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Crushes abound!, Fluff and Angst, Inquisition family feels, Lavellan's had a bad day, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-04
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-09-14 19:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9199451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taoroo/pseuds/taoroo
Summary: When the Boss fucks up, The Iron Bull is there to lend a heavy hand.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The Inquisitors of my stories are separate characters unless otherwise stated.

"Are you off your ruddy bloody head?!?"

The Inquisitor, a moment before relaxed and triumphant, stiffened at the demand from her fellow elf. Her smile faded and her brow wrinkled in confusion as Sera stamped up to within an inch of her face.

The Iron Bull watched the pair from his position above the last fallen foe, carefully tugging his giant battleaxe free of its viscous remains. He remained silent for now, content to let the little firecracker vent her justified rage at the boss. His time would come soon enough.

Bull caught Dorian's eye as their elven companions bickering began, sharing a rare moment of consensus with the Vint.

The boss was in deep shit.

"What's wrong?" she asked now.

"What's wrong?" Sera repeated incredulously, sputtering in her rage. "You bloody almost got your shagging head kicked in - _again_. Why didn't you wait up on the ridge like bigjobs told you?"

"The rift was almost closed," the Inquisitor spoke with a calmly reasoning tone that made it clear to all she felt she had done no wrong. Of course, this only served to rile her companion further.

"But it weren't bloody closed yet, was it?" Sera snapped, hands flailing as she made her point. "We agreed you was going to stand up there--" Sera stabbed an accusatory finger toward the rocky ledge that overlooked their current position. "--On account that it's kind of difficult to close a shagging rift if your damn Herald's dead!"

"There was only one enemy remaining," Lavellan scoffed, "I waited until the danger passed, like we discussed."

"Yeah? So what's that new bleeder you've got then? A sodding lovebite?"

Lavellan gave the wound on her upper arm a cursory glance. "It's hardly bleeding any more. Besides, I'm sure that Dorian prefers that to the beheading he was about to receive before I came to his aid."

"He wouldn't have been in that position of he wasn't shielding you from the bloody rift lightning!"

Lavellan's frown deepened and her head whipped to Parvus for confirmation.

The mage nodded, arms folded casually across his chest.

Iron Bull was impressed; under that cool gaze and relaxed pose, the Vint was strung taught as a bow. He could practically smell the man's anger seeping from beneath the genteelly crafted exterior. A true bloody Vint.

"The situation was under control, Inquisitor," Dorian said, not quite in full control of his voice as the molten steel that rippled under the surface solidified to a sharp point. "There was no need for you to disobey The Iron Bull's orders."

The Boss flinched at that tone but then bristled as, Bull suspected, Dorian had planned. Catch your opponent off-guard, introduce the idea that they may have erred, and let them solidify that thought with their own doubts and insecurities. Give them something to be angry about to keep that bothersome rationality at bay and allow them an easy target in, oh, say an equally irate elf willing to do your dirty work, and the job was done for you.

"Orders?" Lavellan scoffed. "Come now, don't you think you're overreacting just a little?"

"No, Boss," said Iron Bull. He dropped his weapon heavily, letting the blade bite into the soil where it stood like a sentry post. Then he stepped forward, deliberately drawing Sera back with a firm hand.

"Go and scout the area," he commanded her, gaze still on the Boss. "We'll need to rest here a little while before we head back to camp."

"BUT--!"

"I'll handle this," Bull said, fixing the archer with his one shining eye, the words a promise.

Sera, bless her knickers, understood with a brief widening of her overlarge eyes.

"I'll go find myself a good lookout, eh?" she said, viper tongue coated with honey. "Get myself a _good view_."

"Make sure the area is secure," Bull reminded her with a tight smile.

Sera gave a nonchalant wave of her hand, snatching up her bow and disappearing up into the rocks as fast as a mountain ram.

"Check her over, would you, Vint?" said Bull, then swiftly held up a hand to halt the Inquisitor's protests. "I know it's not deep, but that blow you took earlier sent you black for a good while. Can't blame me for being cautious."

Even more cautious than usual, given their current situation, The Iron Bull reflected as Dorian set to work. The Mage was no healer, but he'd learnt a few spells from Solas these past few weeks that could patch a body up in a pinch.

As Dorian fussed about their boss, Bull scanned the perimeter of their battleground.

They were in Cour de Lion, high up on the ridges above the bridge, giving him a wide vantage of any attacks. A dragon rumbled somewhere far to the east, hiding for now in its ring. Three of the magnificent bastards so close together! And they had barely escaped the first with their lives intact, a few meagre potions to see them to the camp across the bridge. Then there had been a glow in the distance and well - shit - you couldn't ignore a rift spewing out so many high-level demons. The decision to attack had been unanimous, the victory from the dragon so freshly burning confidence in their veins. At the end of that little fiasco both Bull and the boss had lain unconscious, their potions spent, until Sera, crying her eyes out to see her be-lusted herald fallen, had dragged them both up with a strength that defied her size, so the Boss could deal the killing blow on the wavering rift.

Dorian's wards had fortified them for a time, long enough to see them through until a sudden red Templar attack was dealt with. They had turned for home immediately, but another green glow and the sussurance of evil magics had halted them in their tracks.

This rift had been smaller than the last but still guarded well enough to have them make a cautious approach. It had stood in a small circular basin of heated waters typical to the area, with a ridge above it cutting off ground attacks against those stationed on high.

The plan had been simple; one Lavellan and Cassandra had employed at the rift near the Hinterland stables. The Iron Bull would join the foes on the ground, baiting them into the killing floor, whilst Dorian and Sera rained fire and steel from above. Without a ranged weapon, their Inquisitor was to wait patiently and seal the rift whenever the opportunity presented.

It went well, up to a point. The demons were strong and cunning, sapping the companions' reserves. The last foul beast had stayed out of range of the magic and arrows, dancing away from Bull's attacks and drawing him ever further from the killing floor, pelting him with arcane magics from afar. Bull had bellowed to the Mage and elf to give aid, the rift at his back remaining stubbornly guarded against closure until it's last denizen was annihilated.

They'd taken a pounding then, casting back everything the demon could throw. Bull had made steady progress on the beast, hacking away at it's life-force with bloodied determination. Then a yell from above had diverted the creature, as both it and Bull turned to watch the Inquisitor leaping from her high vantage without fear or care for the damage she might sustain.

"Your ankle troubles you?"

The Iron Bull was distracted from his thoughts with a frown of concern, watching in silent judgment as Lavellan shrugged off this newly revealed injury.

"It hardly hurts at all," she said. A grimace a moment later made a liar of her as Dorian prodded the affected area.

Iron Bull allowed a grunt of disapproval. This hadn't been the first time the Boss had distracted him that day.

The demon had thrown him _\-- Him_ \-- and rushed toward the Boss. The Vint had stood in it's path, the green glow of a protective ward signalling the last of his magic reserves. He had raised his staff to meet the fiend, but then Lavellan had been there, taking the demon's claws on her arm as she whirled in a dervish of knives and fire. Her foe fallen, she had turned on the point of a pin, forcefully thrusting an arm toward the rift and sealing it with grimace of victory.

Bull had to admit the grace with which their assassin moved left him horny as fuck.

Still, that wasn't the point.

"Injuries?" he asked of the Mage, who gave a sour grunt as he rose from their Herald's side.

"Nothing in itself life threatening," he reported, dusting his hands in a businesslike manner. "Our dear Herald has been most fortunate."

"Enough fuss," the Boss said, halfway between condescension and true irritation. "Let's get back to camp as soon as we can."

"Not so hasty, my rogue," Dorian said, a grim smile tweaking his immaculate moustache. _How it could be still so perfect despite all they had been through that day was beyond Bull_. "You may be grateful for our solitude in some short moments."

"I take it you mean she's strong enough for a... long discussion?" Bull rumbled.

The Vint's eyes flashed vindictively for a moment before settling back to their quiet smoulder. "Strong enough," he confirmed with a tight nod. "Keep her head above the level of her heart, or she may faint on us again, otherwise: have at her."

Lavellan had only time for a brief moment of confusion, her brow drawing in as she sharply demanded: "What--?"

The Iron Bull moved fast, even for those used to his combat speed. Grasping their Inquisitor about her slim hips he carried her bodily to the edge of the ring, ensuring as he did that their eyes on the ridge above had easy view of his prey. If would not do to have their scout distracted overmuch from struggling to see the next few minutes' work.

Lavellan had managed no more than a few indignant huffs of reproval without true substance before Bull was sitting upon the raised stone, a mabari statue to his back. Lavellan he held with one hand, braced above his lap, as the other made fast moves over her buckles and laces.

"Whatever you're trying to do Bull, it isn't funny!" the Boss snapped, writhing in his grip, deliciously immobile.

"Trying?" Bull asked, shooting the Mage a quick, fanged, grin. "I'm not _trying_ anything, Boss. What I'm _doing_ is stripping your breeches..." with a swift yank his word was deed, "...putting you over my knee..." Lavellan landed upon his thick thighs with a breathy huff, "...and thrashing you to within an inch of your life!"

He raised his hand and let it fall with devastating effect, right in the centre of the Boss's tan cheeks. The colour would not stay the same for long; even her dusky shade would redden given enough attention, and Bull intended to give it _plenty_ of that.

The hand landed. Lavellan hollered out her displeasure and shock. Not much pain yet, but give it time.

"Ahem."

Bull looked up, a quizzical brow raised toward the Mage, who mirrored the expression, eyes narrowed.

"All right," Bull conceded after a few short moments, "perhaps not an inch." His hand thundered home once more, the Inquisitor responding with a sharp squawk, legs kicking, back arching.

"…but it'll be a sight closer than a mile considering. I'm. So. Damn. Mad."

Each word was followed by a hefty whack to Lavellan's bottom, already tinged pink beneath the natural honey hues.

"Wh-Why?! St-STOP!" their Inquisitor ordered, her words cut short by the steady descent of a Qunari hand that covered near the entirety of her bottom.

"Why?" Dorian demanded, the word incredulous.

The Mage had closed the gap between them somewhat, resting himself in full view of their inquisitor, arms and legs crossed nonchalantly as he leant back against the stone.

"Why?" he repeated, dripping sarcasm. "Why do you think?"

"I wasn't in any danger!" Lavellan blurted. She pressed her palms into Bull's thigh, pushing up with all her might, but could not budge from beneath the Qunari's hand.

"No?" Dorian's tone was at its highest level of scorn, the one he usually reserved for discussing Mother Giselle, users of blood magic, or his father. "Think again!"

Having failed up, the Boss next tried across, rolling to the side to try and extract herself from Bull's palm, planted firmly over her middle back. Bull gave not an inch, instead shifting his hand to tuck around the elf's slim waist. It was thinner than it should have been, now that he had a chance to see beneath the armour that the boss stubbornly wore at all times. He'd need to have a word with Josie about keeping tabs on their Inquisitor's mealtimes.

"It's been a shitter of a day, Boss," Bull said conversationally. "First the dragon kicks seven kinds of fuck out of us..."

_Shit._ _The dragon. It's massive wings and sharp, spearlike jaws. Electricity pouring from it like a rippling summer_ _storm_... Bull took a deep breath, willing away the beginnings of an erection with years-trained ease. Later. Oh, fuck, _later_.

"Then the first rift," he continued, "and those motherless Vints... no offence to present company."

_Mmmh_ _Vints..._

"None taken, old chap," said Dorian, his glittering eyes lingering on bull's with a bit too much intensity to be neutral.

_Perhaps this time..._

Allowing himself follow that line of thought for a delicious while, Bull let his hand fall in silence for a suitably long pause, during which the Boss became ever more animated in her struggles. No tears yet, just pain and frustrated anger. But he could feel the emotions roiling within the woman like poison snakes in a sack.

"Don't you dare!" Dorian suddenly snapped.

Both The Iron Bull and his victim paused, Bull's hand raised high, Lavellan's halted mid-way through a silent spell.

"What magic is that?" Bull asked, keeping his tone light, eyes fixed upon the Boss's rigid torso.

"Teleportation," Dorian answered curtly. "Seems she has the wit to keep from outright attacking you."

Bull grunted noncommittally, his outward mien not changing. His hand, however, expressed his disapproval memorably.

"AHH AHH AHHHH!! B- BULL! NO! NOT THERE! NOT THERE! _PLEASE_!!"

The warrior kept up his steady assault on the Boss's thighs, casually shifting to trap her legs between his own as she brought them up to ward the stinging new area.

"No avoiding this, Kadan," Bull said coolly. "You fuck up, my hand's going to have a conversation with your ass. A loooong conversation."

"S-s-surely you're not nearly done!?!"

The Iron Bull laughed heartily, a deep and resonating timbre that unknown to him set Dorian to shivering despite the heat of the pools.

"Aw Boss, we're barely warming up!"

Lavellan howled then, thrashing and clawing at his breeches, spitting out vicious elven through her teeth.

"Ooh, that sounded _filthy_ ," Bull purred. "Fancy translating, Arrows?"

"Arrows?" Sera demanded from somewhere unseen up high. "I don't speak that elfy shit, _Horn_ _y_."

"Shame," Bull said, ignoring the namecalling and Dorian's barely suppressed sniggers. Of course he knew what the woman had said - it was one of Dalish's favoured curses - and he knew Sera gave as much of a shit about the elven language as he did the mysteries of the vale; but bringing the archer into the conversation had two benefits. First, it reminded the Boss that Sera was there, ramping up her discomfort. This was something Sera would relish, giving the second benefit of a favour owed from the Red Jenny to cash at a later date.

Speaking of adding to the discomfort…

"I'll have to ask Solas when we get back," he said.

Lavellan gasped, growing immediately still.

"You wouldn't... you wouldn't tell him," she whispered in a trembling voice. "You can't tell anyone!"

The Iron Bull couldn't help a tight smirk at that drop in their Herald's defences. Solas, to any Dalish might be viewed as an insufferable exotic, with his disdain of their traditions rivalled only by his depth of knowledge of the arcane histories of his people. Sera, too, loathed the man for his overt "elfyness", though Bull considered she was more likely adverse to the Mage simply because of the depth of the Boss's admiration for him.

It wasn't a crush; so far their Inquisitor had appeared stubbornly withdrawn from that area of inquisition life. Bull wondered, not for the last time he was sure, whether her frequent flirtatious remarks to all those both warmly and less than warmly acquainted with her were accident or design. Any reciprocation was met with soft puzzlement, yet no outright refusal. Was it a ploy to keep all the warring factions under a state of bemused tameness, or was Lavellan, sheltered as she had been in her Dalish tribe, simply unaware of the effect she had on her companions?

Well now he was definitely making certain that she was aware of the affect her recent actions had upon the group.

Likely upset by his refusal to rescind the threat, the Boss now pounded weakly upon Bull's thighs.

"Why?" she demanded, tears threatening in her chocked cry. “WhywhywhywhyWHY!?!"

"You know why, Dearheart," Dorian spoke softly.

"I was doing my duty!" Lavellan wailed. "Why are you punishing me for protecting you?!"

"We don't need protecting, Kadan," said Bull in a gentle but firm tone. "Don't insult us with those words."

"You do!" Lavellan's head shot up, her face contorted with anger. "I'm supposed..." she bit back her words and shook her head, dropping it stubbornly to glare at the earth. Her body jerked rhythmically forward as Bull's blows continued at a steady pace.

"You're supposed to what, Dearheart?" Dorian queried. He was closer now, an arm's reach away from their herald. Bull could sense Sera above them, close to the lip of the rocks. He continued laying lazy swats upon their leader's scalded rear, no longer hard but firm enough to act as incentive for a tight-lipped elf.

"I'm supposed to protect you all," Lavellan ground out, still keeping her eyes on the ground. Her hands clutched Bull's voluminous breeches, twisting the fabric tightly. "That's my job. M-my duty. If I didn't... I'm the only one that can. I've seen..." Bull heard a soft gasp and then felt the first smattering of hot tears seep into the fabric over his thigh.

Dorian was crouched beside their inquisitor's head, arms resting upon his knees.

"Alexius failed, Dearheart," he said gently, "You beat him, remember?"

Lavellan drew in a harsh breath and shuddered beneath Bull's hand. "I don't want..." she sobbed. "I... I..." she lifted her head and Bull could see her agony reflected in the Vint's eyes. Their Boss was keeping something big inside, a slumbering dragon flexing just beneath the surface, shackles crumbling against the strength of her pain.

"What don't you want, Kadan?" Bull asked. He dropped his left leg, raising the right so that Lavellan's backside was raised high, then lay down some downright evil swats upon what was now a scarlet rear.

"What. Don't. You. Want?"

"I don't want you to die!!" Lavellan howled, her breath exploding from her as her efforts to escape were redoubled. "Everyone... the whole world... if I fail. I can't. I can't let anyone else die because of me!" She drew in ragged gasps, nails digging into Bull's legs deep enough to draw blood, boots pounding into the earth. "No more," she sobbed, growing quickly weak. "I can't bear it. I _can't_."

Bull righted their Inquisitor in an instant, pressing her tightly to his massive chest with one arm whilst the other cradled her beneath the thighs as gently as he was able. Fuck modesty; right now there was no one around that gave a shit the leader of the Inquisition had her ass on show.

His hand stroked through her messy locks, damp with sweat, and he breathed deeply, slowly, evenly; forcing Lavellan to match his pace and settle. Her tears still came, dripping slowly into the cleft of his neck where her face was buried.

"Mas Serrenas, Kadan," he said quietly, knowing his elven words would both shock and soothe the woman. "We never meant to make you feel this way." _He should have seen this coming, damn him. Should have known their kind-hearted Inquisitor would suffer so deeply the loss of every man. Hadn't he seen her_ _headstone in that evil graveyard in the fade_ _? "Madness" had been his. A nice, sensible fear for a Qunari. But Lavellan's had puzzle_ _d him: "The Last." It hadn't seemed like something to manifest as someone's worst fear. Now he understood._

"We're not going anywhere, Kadan," he said softly. "Sure, I'm not going to patronise you and tell you we'll all definitely make it out of this alive, but that's just life, it's got nothing to do with you. You fight your hardest and best, people are still going to get hurt."

"Stroud didn't have to die," Lavellan moaned. "I chose him. I _chose_ him to die."

"Someone had to stay," Bull reasoned, glancing at Dorian, who shrugged noncommittally: it was true after all.

"I could have--"

" _No_ , you couldn't."

"Then Hawke!" Lavellan snapped. "I could have chosen her, but I didn't because I like her, because I like Varric. What reasons are those to end a life? Stupid... selfish... weak!"

The Iron Bull huffed in genuine annoyance and laid a lighting-fast swat on Lavellan's glowing rear, holding her tightly as she arched and cried out.

"You did what you had to do," he said firmly. "You choose a friendly ally over an unknown quantity: you can use Hawke again, use her power, her allies."

"The Grey Wardens--"

"The Grey Wardens understood. They're not immortal, it's their damn job to die for a good cause."

"And what about those who died fighting them then, while I slipped in safe like a thief?" Lavellan snarled, pulling away from Bull's embrace far enough to glare into his eyes. The effect was somewhat spoilt by the tears that still freely flowed down her red and puffy face.

"Every decision I've ever made has gotten someone killed," she declared. "I could have spared the soldiers on the path at the temple; I chose to leave them to go over the mountains, I don't even know what became of them. I didn't _ask_! ...I chose to abandon the Templars to their fate too, to let Samson do terrible things to them. I could have saved them. _I_ chose! It was me. It's always me!" Lavellan's face crumpled up and she shoved her head roughly against Bull's chest. "I don't want to choose anymore," she moaned, fresh tears in her voice.

"Yeah well that's why you’re the Inquisumy, ain't it?" Sera said from where she had appeared on the ledge beside them. "So it's tough bitties, yeah? Don't mean you have to go around acting all stick-arsey like we ain't good enough to fight with you. That's something that'll get you in Jenny's sights sooner than later, right?"

"I don't--!" Lavellan began hotly but gasped and fell silent when The Iron Bull pressed a firm warning hand on her scalded rear.

"Shouldn't you be up there?" Bull asked the archer.

"Don't worry," Sera said with a roll of her eyes, "There's Inky scouts over on the road. Think I'll head over and grab some potions and grub, yeah?"

"Good idea," Dorian said, unfolding from his perch like an exotic cat. "I could do with stretching my legs. Never does to idle after rigorous exercise, you know." The mage cast an eye over to Lavellan and quirked a fond smile. "Most of the time, that is."

Bull gave a permissive nod from over the top of Lavellan's head, the Inquisitor still pouting at her enforced silence. "Grab some elfroot if you see any," he said.

"Gotcha, Mr Iron Horn, Ser," Sera said cheerfully.

"There's still space over my lap for a second bratty elf," The Iron Bull rumbled, making to stand, Lavellan still in a one-arm grip.

"No fear!" Sera bounced away cheerfully. "You'd have to catch me first, Horny!"

When they were alone, The Iron Bull looked down at the elf in his arms, noting the tense set in her shoulders and her deliberate avoidance of his gaze. Still, for all her evasiveness, Lavellan clung to him, unwilling to remove herself from his lap, though he made no move to keep her there. One hand was clutched around a leather strap of his harness, the other wrapped protectively tight about her midriff.

The Iron Bull cracked an honest, fond smile. He slowly raised his hand and began to rub gentle circles in her back. After a few moments, Lavellan sank into the comfort of it, resting her head against his chest and taking long, deep breaths as fat tears dropped slowly down her cheeks. Bull was sure the Boss didn't even know they were falling, judging by the stuporous look in the woman's eye.

"Sera's right, you know," he said softly. "The way she said it was a bit rough and mixed up, but that's just her style."

Lavellan made a soft noise of protest but seemed too exhausted to offer anything else. Bull pressed on.

"We all joined this... cause for different reasons. Because we were scared, or inspired, or had nowhere else to go. But now we're here we know what we've got to do; stop the end of the world or die trying. I know that, Sera knows that, you know it most of all. So don't insult us by acting like our lives are worth any more or less than yours."

Lavellan pulled her head away and glared at Bull with wide, indignant eyes. "That's not--!"

"We might not have known what we were getting ourselves into at the start," The Iron Bull pressed, "but now we do and we've each of us stayed. You recognise that and you do us the courtesy of letting us put ourselves in harm’s way if we want to, and we'll all get along just fine."

Lavellan’s frown lost its confrontational edge, leaving behind sad, weary eyes. “I do trust you, I do,” she said, miserably. “I just… I don’t want anyone else to die.”

“And we won’t, not if we can help it. Not if we work together and don’t go about hiding behind you.”

Lavellan drew a heavy sigh, resting her head against Bull’s chest.

“I’m sorry.”

The Iron Bull smiled, patting her back. “Yeah.”

When a suitable amount of time had passed he cleared his throat. “You know, I was thinking you might like some downtime when we’re not in the field when you don’t have to be in control.” As he spoke, Bull began to gently draw Lavellan’s breeches back up her legs. The tight material had bunched above her boots, requiring him to unroll it. He took his time, letting the woman think.

“What are you suggesting?” the Boss asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Well, nothing you’re not comfortable with,” Bull said carefully. “Maybe just… this, every now and then. An outlet, you know?”

“You’re suggesting that I let you…” Lavellan shook her head incredulously. “You think I’m going to _ask_ you to do this to me again? I still can’t believe you did it in the first place!”

The Iron Bull shrugged and with a quick tug pulled the rough fabric of Lavellan’s breeches over her scalded bottom. He sat her down firmly on his legs afterwards, feeling the heat that radiated off her skin through their clothes.

Lavellan yelped and arched. She slapped his shoulder without much force. “That wasn’t very nice, Bull!”

“I’m not trying to be nice,” Bull rumbled, noting how the deep timbre of his voice made her shiver with the tiniest bit of dread. “After what you said, I thought you might appreciate someone else calling the shots for a change… You gotta admit, it got good results.”

Lavellan looked away at that, staring down at her lap. Her eyes were still red and puffy, her cheeks stained with tears, but there was a looseness to her shoulders that hadn’t been there for weeks. Bull let himself feel good about that one.

“I’ll think about it,” she said.

“Good enough,” The Iron Bull stood, setting the Boss down to earth and steadying her by the shoulders until she found her balance. “The offer’s there, if you need it.”

“Thank you.” Lavellan’s voice was hoarse and sincere. She held Bull’s hand for a lingering moment against her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Truly. I’m… I’m sorry for not trusting you more. All of you.”

“Good to hear,” Dorian said. He and Sera were approaching up the path, laden with packs.

When they were closer the mage dropped his supplies, clearly disgusted that he had been reduced to such busywork. He was startled a moment later to have his arms filled by the leader of the Inquisition, who hugged him tightly for several long moments. “Well, it seems we are forgiven.”

“I’m sorry,” Lavellan said, voice muffled from the man’s chest. She pulled away, fixing him with sincere eyes. “I treated you all badly.”

“All forgiven, my dear” Dorian said, patting the woman’s head fondly.

Lavellan looked to Sera and hesitated only briefly before breaking from the mage and yanking the rogue into an equally deep hug.

“Bloody right,” Sera snorted, hugging back. “Silly tit.”

“Just make sure you learned from this, or we’ll have to let our savage Qunari brutalise you again,” said Dorian.

“Hey!”

“Oh, don’t act so offended, Bull,” Dorian said, eyes sparkling wickedly. “I’m sure you relished every moment you had our dear, delicate Inquisitor’s perfectly toned bottom under those slabs of meat you call hands.”

“You’re making me sound like some kind of pervert, Pavus!”

“You _are_ a pervert, darling. Own it.”

“Takes one to know one.”

“Ew!” Sera said, pulling a disgusted face. She snatched up Lavellan’s hand and tugged her to a flat strip of land where they could sit and eat in peace. “Come on Quizzie, I snagged us some wine from the scouts.”

“Yes, let’s leave the boys to their nonsense,” Lavellan said with a chuckle.

“S’not all nonsense,” Sara said, flopping down on the grass and taking a deep swig of wine. “You do have a nice bum.”

Lavellan followed suit, taking care to rest upon her hip. “I think my bum has had more than enough attention today, thank you!”

“So you don’t want this elfroot balm stuff I got from the scouts for it then?”

The Inquisitor lunged for the container held in Sera’s hand. “Give me that!”

Sera held the pot out of reach. Her lips twisted into a wicked smile.

“Only if I can put it on you!”


End file.
